


tell me again

by hellalujah



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Crowd Smooches, Drabble, Festivals, Flower Crowns, Fluff, M/M, Separation Anxiety, Yep they get themselves some flower crowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 04:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellalujah/pseuds/hellalujah
Summary: Endings are scary. Luckily this isn't the end.





	tell me again

**Author's Note:**

> for wing, hina, a, and the other k
> 
> inspired by [this photo](http://hugopierreleclercq.tumblr.com/post/159620047218/hugo-and-porter-playing-in-flowers-image) and a buncha people over on twitter drawing the boys covered in flowers/wearing flower crowns
> 
> soundtrack: [madeon - zephyr](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HZNUMyzhA8)

Hugo's been unnaturally anxious since his arrival in California.

After a break in France and then three DJ sets back in America he knows he should be more calm. More centered and relaxed. And really, it's not even like this is their last show but there's a twisting tension in the pit of his stomach, a sense of foreboding that he can't seem to shake. Not even when he gets to the festival grounds or when he finally meets up with Porter.

It's been on his mind since the last show they played. The inevitability of it all ending.

They hug and it's a very friendly and casual thing, something no one around them will read into. But Porter murmurs “I missed you,” in his ear and Hugo lets himself hold on a little tighter, just for a second.

They're pulled aside for interviews before they can say any more, before Hugo can wind his fingers through Porter's hair and kiss him like he wants to but he wouldn't do that to him, to _them._

They've agreed not to reveal anything. Not for a while, anyway.

They do a short interview, a couple of photos. Hugo stands closer to Porter than he should and Porter lets him. He doesn't edge away even when Hugo's shoulder brushes his and it makes everything a little softer, a little easier.

The interviewer has them lay out in the grass and she sprinkles flowers all over them both for some silly Snapchat video. Hugo inches just a tiny bit closer while they're laying there, just close enough that his elbow brushes against Porter's rib cage.

Porter doesn’t move away and Hugo closes his eyes. It’s easier this way, being in contact with Porter. Easier to forget it’s all going to be over soon.

A flower petal lands on his cheek. He doesn't flinch.

And then they're finally alone, or as alone as they can be. The tension still hasn't left Hugo's body, anxiety still churning through his gut. He ducks his head and starts dusting himself off, brushing away flower petals and dirt and grass to avoid looking at Porter.

But Porter notices. Of course he does.

“Hey,” Porter says in an undertone, fingers catching at Hugo's jacket pocket. “Let's go out there. Have the whole Coachella experience, you know?”

Hugo watches him quietly for a beat. There's still a petal stuck to Porter's shirt and he allows himself to reach up and brush it away. Porter keeps smiling but his cheeks go pink at the touch and Hugo's hand drops down to his side.

He's used to it by now, and normally he finds it sweet but today there’s guilt rising up like bile in his throat.

He looks down at the grass. “Okay,” he says eventually.

Porter leads him by the wrist around and out of the area cordoned off for artists and pauses before slipping through the gate.

“Gimme your hat,” he hums even though he's already reaching for it, already pulling his beanie off and replacing it with Hugo’s cap. “Let your hair down, you're less recognizable that way.”

Hugo stares at him, trying to process. Porter sighs but he’s smiling when he reaches up again and tugs Hugo’s hair tie loose and runs gentle fingers through his hair until it’s falling around his shoulders.

“There, perfect,” he says, satisfied. “Come on!”

He catches Hugo around the wrist again and drags him out through the gap in the fence, out into the festival grounds proper.

There are so many people. He doesn’t often go out into the crowds at festivals - it’s easier to stay in the shade backstage, to drink with his friends instead of trying to navigate through the masses of people with any sort of anonymity.

But Porter’s hand is still around his wrist and he focuses on that as he’s pulled across the grass and past clusters of people toward one of the main stages.

“Who do you wanna see?” Porter asks, loud over the music and the crowd and Hugo shrugs. He doesn’t know. Nerves are still twisting through his stomach and it’s not like him at all but he thinks he’d rather just go back to the tent.

Porter hums and lets go of his wrist, heads off across the grounds toward a group of kids sitting cross-legged in the dirt. One of the girls is weaving flowers together into colourful headbands or crowns, passing them off to her friends. Porter looks back over his shoulder and grins before he hustles over to the group.

“Can you make us some of those?”

The girl looks up and her pupils are so large Hugo can barely tell what colour her eyes are but she’s beaming up at them so Hugo smiles back. She doesn’t respond but she starts twisting her flowers together expertly. White and blue for Porter - he puts it on right on top of Hugo’s cap and the girl dissolves into helpless giggles - and purple and yellow for Hugo.

Porter takes it from her and places it very gently on Hugo’s hair. Hugo ducks his head and cracks a smile that doesn’t feel quite as forced or unnatural.

“Perfect,” says Porter and Hugo can’t help the way his smile spreads wide across his face.

They thank the girl and then Porter’s whisking them off into the mass of people. Hugo lets his arm brush against Porter's, bumps their shoulders together a couple of times. He doesn't push it. He wouldn't do that, not even here in the middle of the crowd.

Hugo's pretty sure no one would notice. But he keeps his hands to himself anyway.

“Hey,” says Porter and it’s not loud but Hugo flinches anyway. When he turns his head Porter’s watching him with soft eyes. “What’s up?”

Hugo swallows. He’s not sure how to answer, how to tell Porter that he’s terrified of what’s going to happen after next weekend. That he’s terrified things won’t be the same after they’re back in their respective homes, back to working on their own music again.

It’s impossible to imagine, after being so close to each other for so long. The separation anxiety had been bad enough when he’d gone back to France for just a few weeks, even knowing he’d be back with Porter. Even knowing it wasn’t over.

He opens his mouth and he means to say something. He does. But his voice dies in his throat and his mouth stays hanging open. He can’t look away from Porter. He swallows again.

And then Porter reaches out and links their hands together and it’s like he’s sinking into a hot bath.

Porter’s hand is warm and a little sweaty but it’s _Porter’s_ hand and their fingers are intertwined in the middle of a crowd of people and it’s like all the stress is seeping out of him all at once.

“It isn’t over,” Porter says and it should be too quiet for Hugo to hear over the music, over the crowd. But he hears him perfectly and he lets himself shuffle half a step closer.

Porter smiles at him and tilts his head to one side. A petal from his flower crown shakes loose and lands on his shoulder. Hugo reaches up automatically to brush it away with his free hand and this time Porter doesn’t blush. He grins, cheeks dimpling.

“I know,” Hugo mumbles and Porter tugs him a bit closer.

“Nothing’s going to change,” Porter goes on and now they’re pressed to each other, people weaving around and past them. No one’s paying attention to them.

Porter presses their foreheads together.

“I promise,” he whispers.

Hugo makes a distressed sound, cups Porter’s hip and pulls him in and he can’t help it when he tilts his head and brings their mouths together. Can’t stop himself from kissing Porter slow and deep right there in the middle of the crowd. And Porter lets him; wraps his arm around Hugo’s waist and then they’re chest-to-chest and they’re kissing like they’re never going to stop.

All the anxiety, all the fear drains from Hugo’s body, and it’s easy to believe Porter when he says that they'll be okay.


End file.
